Lost Identity

Chapter 12: Blood on a Golden Desk

Chapter 12: Blood on a Golden Desk

The day began with violin music.

Not the sweet kind that lifts your soul and sways your heart. No. This was a screeching, slicing thing—a warning masquerading as art. It came from the north wing, where the elite students took private lessons with musicians who charged more per hour than most families made in a month.

Hana heard it as she crossed the quad, hoodie up, hood lower. She didn't flinch. She knew that kind of music: beautiful, talented, and violent.

She made it halfway to Literature when she saw the crowd.

Students swarmed like crows over a fresh corpse, their voices hushed but hungry. There was no pushing. No chaos. Just a tightening circle of bodies and a crackling tension in the air like static before a lightning strike.

At the center was a girl.

And a boy kneeling.

The girl was Jiwon Na. Fifth-generation elite. Known for her icy poise and silken sarcasm. The type of girl who wrote poetry on rose petals and signed her name with real ink.

The boy? No one knew him. Not really.

His name was Daeho, a second-year scholarship student. Tall, quiet, the kind who blended so well he might as well have been wallpaper. His records were clean. His scores are high. His offenses? Zero.

And yet—

There he was, on his knees, head bowed, a red slap blooming across his cheek like a rose painted by violence.

Jiwon stood over him, trembling. Not with fear. With rage barely leashed. Her violin dangled at her side, strings snapped, bow was shaking and broken. Her voice was clear.

"He touched me."

Gasps rippled through the crowd like pebbles dropped into dark water.

Someone whispered, "But Daeho would never..."

Another muttered, "Is there proof?"

Jiwon didn't need proof. Her word was gold. Her family funded half the school. Her uncle was friends with Chairman Kang.

And Daeho? A name from nowhere.

Hana stood at the edge. Watching. Listening.

She saw his hands shake. Saw how he kept them on his thighs, not clenched, not lifted. As if he were afraid to move.

Jiwon turned to the growing crowd.

"He followed me into the practice room. Said I was being too loud. When I asked him to leave, he touched my waist. And when I tried to leave, he grabbed my arm."

Gasps again.shaking

Daeho looked up. His voice was barely above a breath. "I didn't. I swear. I only went in to fix the light switch. Mr. Han sent me."

"So you're calling me a liar?" Jiwon's eyes glittered. "In front of everyone?"

A teacher arrived. One of the older ones. Mr. Byun. He wore a crumpled suit and an expression that screamed, I don't want to deal with this.

He pulled Jiwon aside. Then Daeho. Then checked his phone.

Two minutes later, Daeho was suspended.

Just like that.

No hearing. No investigation.

Just the word of a girl with a broken violin and a trembling hand.

Hana followed the whispers through the day like breadcrumbs.

"Did you hear? The scholarship boy tried to assault Jiwon."

"Chairman Kang called it a shame. He said some seeds grow rotten."

"Jiwon cried. She never cries."

But none of them had seen his face.

Hana had.

There was no guilt. No shame. Just fear. The kind that came when you realized you were drowning and everyone was clapping.

At lunch, she sat next to Minji again. The silence was heavy.

Then Minji whispered, "He wouldn’t do that. Daeho. He’s weird but he’s not... You know."

Hana said nothing.

But her tea tasted like metal.

By evening, the school forums were lit.

Anonymous posts. Screenshots. Memes.

Someone even Photoshopped Daeho into a predator poster.

He hadn’t even been allowed to speak.

And that’s when it hit Hana:

This place wasn’t just cruel. It was engineered that way.

The elite got silence to protect them.

The poor got silence to bury them.

She couldn’t prove he was innocent. But she could feel it. That gut-deep certainty that only comes when you’ve been gaslit before. When you’ve lived under control and been painted a liar with a smile.

Chairman Lee didn’t care.

Chairman Kang cared even less.

Later that night, Chairman Lee found her in the hallway of their sugar-colored prison.

He was eating ice cream with a diamond spoon.

"Rough day, munchkin?"

She turned to him. Voice flat. "A kid got suspended for nothing."

He blinked. "Ah. The violin scandal."

"You knew?"

"Of course I did. Kang called me during his sauna. Said Jiwon's family is threatening to pull funding."

Hana stepped forward. "But it wasn’t real."

Lee licked his spoon. "Doesn’t matter."

"It matters to him."

"Does he sell records? Does he fund drama studios?"

"He’s a human being!"

Chairman Lee smiled, slowly and sadly. "So were a lot of people. And they drowned too."

Two days passed.

Daeho never came back.

His locker was emptied by security.

Jiwon returned to violin class with a new instrument and a bouquet of sympathy cards.

The school moved on.

Hana did not.

She found the maintenance office late at night.

She picked the lock with a hairpin and the fury of injustice.

Inside were rows of old work slips.

She found the one for the north wing light.

Daeho. 8:55 AM. Sent by Mr. Han.

She took a picture.

She emailed it to the Head of Student Affairs anonymously.

She printed it and left it in Minji’s locker.

She posted it to the forums under the username: GoldenLiar.

The next day, the whispers returned.

"Was he framed?"

"Why would she lie?"

"Maybe it was a misunderstanding?"

Jiwon said nothing.

But her hands trembled when she played.

Chairman Kang held an emergency meeting.

The topic was “Cyber Misinformation.”

Daeho wasn’t reinstated.

But he was no longer labeled a predator.

His name faded.

Hana watched it all.

And burned every second into her bones.

This was power.

Not justice.

Not true.

But leverage.

And now she had a taste.

Next time?

She wouldn't be anonymous.